A Tentative Hope
by Naninator
Summary: Sherlock and Molly share a moment while he is recovering in the hospital after being shot. Spoilers for Series 3.


_A little moment between Sherlock and Molly while he is recovering from being shot. I had always hoped that they might have come to some sort of understanding after the whole drug fiasco._

 **Disclaimer: I do not own these characters.**

It was the press of something soft and warm against his forehead that roused Sherlock Holmes from a drug induced sleep. He winced as he shifted in the hospital bed, the steady beeping of the heart monitor intruding on the silence. The bullet wound in his chest pulled slightly and his closed eyes scrunched tightly in pain before he allowed them to flutter open. His pale eyes cast about the private hospital room, widening slightly when he took in the profile of Molly Hooper who stood in front of the window, a soft smile curling her lips as she rearranged a vase full of daffodils. A quiet sigh escaped her as she carefully caressed the edge of a petal. She turned towards the doorway, her eyes coming to rest on the bed where Sherlock lay and the consulting detective quickly slammed his eyes shut. For some reason his heart had started to beat faster the longer he looked at her but he didn't want her to know that he was awake.

Ever since she had slapped him in the lab their friendship had been rather tense. He also had no idea how she had reacted to finding out about his relationship with Janine but truly hoped that she would forgive him for his past actions. He hadn't lied to her that night before his fall. She truly did count and he had always trusted her.

He knew that he had really put his foot in it when he made that comment about her fiancé. He had done so well too, not to say anything about the man that resembled himself physically. Even though the drugs were for a case he knew how his friends would react, especially John. And then his mouth had run away from him, mentioning the missing engagement ring that had adorned her left hand for so many months. He would never admit it, and would blame the drugs if it was ever made known, but when he had observed the missing ring his heart had leapt in his chest.

It was doing so now as, with his eyes still closed, Sherlock felt Molly's presence move closer to the bed. Very lightly her fingers carded through the dark curls that fell over his forehead, her touch causing warmth to spread through his chest. As she pulled away his chest tightened in pain and a sudden sense of loss. He could hear her footsteps moving away from the bed and he opened his eyes to watch her progress. She had almost made it to the door when he found himself murmuring what he had wanted to tell her ever since she'd slapped him.

"I'm sorry."

Molly whirled around, her hand resting over her heart, a startled look on her face. When her wide brown eyes met his blue green ones she relaxed slightly.

"Oh, Sherlock. I'm sorry, did I wake you?" She asked softly as she made her way back over to his bedside. Sherlock watched her before shaking his head.

"No," he waited until she was standing beside him before repeating what he said earlier. "I am sorry, Molly." Molly gave him a confused look.

"For what?" She asked and Sherlock looked away, trying to gather his thoughts. He loathed not being in control and this whole Magnussen case didn't help. Ever since he had returned from destroying Moriarty's network he had felt different, changed in a way. He had also found that he had wanted to spend more time with Molly since his return but as she'd had a fiancé he'd decided to keep his distance. It hadn't been too difficult; John and Mary's wedding had taken up much of his attention as well as a few interesting cases. And then there was the whole Magnussen thing…he sighed.

"For how I have treated you," Sherlock began softly, "for disappointing you."

"Sherlock-" he held up a hand and she fell silent.

"I deserved it when you slapped me. It was for a case but I understand now that what I did upset you and John. It was reckless of me as well as harmful." He glanced up at her, his expression serious. Molly stared into his pale eyes for a long moment, seeing the sincerity in them, the pain.

"What you did was horrible, Sherlock. You had John so worried and I couldn't believe that you would do that to yourself when there are so many people who love you and care for you." As she spoke tears began to fill her eyes, her voice shaking with suppressed emotion.

"And now look at you! You've been shot, you could've died! Is this case really worth it, Sherlock? Is it worth you dying?" The tears had finally spilled down her cheeks and she was biting her lip harshly to still the sobs that were trying to escape. Looking up at her Sherlock felt his heart constrict in his chest at her tears and the way her voice broke. Being around Molly always had him feeling vulnerable, that he needed to tread carefully with her, especially after the way he had treated her over the years.

Tentatively, he reached out and touched the back of her hand that rested on the edge of his bed. She gasped softly at the touch before meeting his eyes with her own and gently intertwined their fingers. He knew what Mycroft would say if he happened upon the two at this moment but for once Sherlock didn't care. While everyone knew of his disdain for sentiment he couldn't deny that holding Molly's small, gentle, but very capable, hand in his own much larger one caused that warm feeling to once again bloom in his chest. He curled his fingers tighter around her own and tugged her closer. Looking up at her through the fan of his lashes, his blue green eyes gazed at her intently as he pressed his full lips to the ridge of her knuckles.

"If it will protect the lives of my best friend and his wife, yes Molly, it is worth it." He said, his low voice slightly hoarse as some deep emotion caused a lump to form in his throat.

Molly stared deeply into his eyes, her own cinnamon gaze searching. When she found what she was looking for she released a soft breath and squeezed the hand that held hers. The expression on his face reminded Molly greatly of the time Sherlock had come to her in the morgue, telling her that he was going to die. Feeling her chest tighten in worry Molly moved closer and sat on the edge of his bed, holding fast to his hand in hers.

"Sherlock," she began softly, her expression earnest. "What do you need?" The quietly spoken words, the question that had completely changed Sherlock's view of the small pathologist all those years ago, caused the lump in his throat to grow and a sudden stinging in his eyes.

"Molly…" He rasped and Molly must have seen the panic that had begun to fill his face as he struggled to regain control of his emotions for she gently lifted her other hand and cupped his cheek. With infinite gentleness Molly brushed away the lone tear that had escaped his brilliant eyes.

"Shh," she murmured and lifted up slightly to press a soft kiss to Sherlock's forehead.

His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation and Sherlock found that her gentle touch, her soft voice, and her soothing presence were able to calm the tumult of emotion that had threatened to overwhelm him.

"If you need me, you can have me," Molly whispered against his skin and Sherlock released a deep breath; the concern over his best friend's marriage being destroyed with what he now knew about Mary and that Magnussen held great leverage over her began to fade away as he was surrounded with all that was Molly.

Once he felt that he was considerably calmed Sherlock opened his eyes to gaze up at Molly. She was still seated on the bed beside him, her hand clasped tightly in his own, her auburn locks curling gently around her face. Gazing at her he felt his heart skip at the gentle smile she gave him. He lifted her hand in his to his lips once more, though this time he turned her hand over, gently unfurling it to kiss the center of her palm.

"Thank you, Molly," Sherlock said and was rewarded with Molly's smile growing.

"Whatever you need, Sherlock," she replied quietly and with one last kiss to his brow Molly withdrew. Sherlock watched her go, closely taking in the golden highlights in her hair as the sunlight hit her, the pink flush to her cheeks and the warm honey depths of her brown eyes as she turned to glance at him one last time before leaving his room. His gaze flicked to the heart monitor beside him and he smiled ruefully when he saw how quickly his heart was beating. Somehow, sentiment didn't seem so ridiculous anymore and Sherlock looked forward to this case being over, not only for the sake of his dear friends, but for his own. As he lay against his pillow he filed the feel of Molly's lips against his skin in his mind palace, a tentative hope growing inside him.

 **The End**

 _Hope you enjoyed it!_


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